And in the End should Someone Die?
by BohemianMuse
Summary: An argument estranges Harry and Hermione for years, until Harry is proven right. Hermione's unexpected 'condition' leaves Harry with a loving burden.
1. Leaving

Ch.1  
  
"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for everything. Gred, Forge, don't get into too much trouble. Bye, Ginny. Take good care of Crookshanks for me. Mum, Dad, I'll write every day," Hermione said, hugging and kissing each in turn. She finally turned to her best friend. "And Ron," she said with a sigh. "A big goodbye to you," she finished, suffocating him in a bone-cracking embrace.  
  
"We'll miss you, 'Mione. Have fun. And owl us. And I'll tell Harry you said goodbye," he replied, an audible fear in his voice as he said the last bit.  
  
"But I didn't say goodbye to Harry," Hermione said coolly, releasing him.  
  
"'Mione, I wish you could have settled this before you left."  
  
"Settle what, Ronald?" she said menacingly.  
  
"Please, 'Mione? Just cool off a while then write to him. Please?"  
  
"Ronald, I am cooled off. I don't want to talk to Harry. I did nothing wrong. Juts because he's an insensitive, controlling, selfish bastard does not mean..." But then Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and picked up her luggage. "Bye, Ron. I've got to get going," she said, with a one-arm hug and a peck on the cheek.  
  
Hermione waved to the rest of her farewell party from the deck of the ship. She settled into her cabin and took out a book. To the untrained eye it would appear as if our Ms. Granger were totally absorbed in her volume. But, dear Reader, you shall soon know better. Hermione was staring blankly at the pages of The Philosophy of Magick by Nettle Socrates. Scenes, thoughts, and feelings from her last encounter with the Boy-Who-Lived fluttered through her mind.  
  
"But Hermione, what's in New York?" Harry asked suspiciously.  
  
"I told you, Harry. The American Ministry has offered me a job," she replied, not meeting his eye.  
  
"Hermione Granger, don't lie to me. You have a wonderful job at our ministry. You love your boss, your work, and the people under you, which is, in fact, quite a few. Tell me the truth," he said firmly.  
  
"I need a change of scenery, that's all," she said, still occupying her gaze with a stray thread on her skirt.  
  
"He's there, isn't he?" he said softly.  
  
"What?" she said quickly. She finally looked up at him, but only for a second. His cold eyes stung too much. "What are you talking about? Who?"  
  
"You know who, Hermione. He's in New York, isn't he?," he persisted.  
  
"He might be. I haven't talked to him recently," she replied casually. She opened his refrigerator in a vain attempt to hide her revealing face. She was never a good liar, and Harry knew this.  
  
"Dammit, Hermione!," he shouted and pounded his fist on the table. "Why do you do this to yourself? He's not good enough for you! Why do you keep going back to him? He doesn't love you!"  
  
"Mr. Potter," Hermione said dangerously as she slammed the refrigerator door and turned towards him. "For you information, Lionel does love me. He tells me so in every owl. You have no idea how he feels about me. How would you? You dismissed him the first time you saw him. Maybe I keep going back to him because my best friend is too selfish and arrogant to realize that I love him back! Not that I need to explain anything to you," she finished with a 'humph'.  
  
Harry sat down at his kitchen table, head in his hands. "Hermione," he said weakly, not turning to look at her, "if you're going to lie to me, get out of my apartment." She was too mad to cry. All she could do was stomp out, slamming the door as hard as she could. 'He doesn't know anything,' she assured herself before apparating to her own flat. She had to finish packing.  
  
Hermione shook herself out of her reverie. 'I can't believe I didn't say goodbye. Who knows how long I'll be gone?' Her heart sunk at the thought, before she remembered why she hadn't said goodbye. 'No. he doesn't own me. He doesn't know what's best for me. And he can't tell me what to do. And I won't apologize.' She shuddered with anger, but quickly pushed Harry out of her mind and concentrated on her book. 


	2. The Big Apple

Ch.2  
  
The magical ship Hermione had boarded slid into New York harbor a few hours later. Stepping onto the pier, she stood on tiptoe and searched the swarm of people for one in particular. She soon saw his sandy blonde hair and smiling, freckled face bobbing towards her. She felt a grin spread across her face. He rushed toward her, wrapped his arms around her, and swung her round three times.  
  
"Lionel," she whispered into his neck. He lightly set her down and gazed at her. "Well?" she asked excitedly.  
  
"Well what?" he replied nervously. Had he forgotten something?  
  
"Kiss me, already! I haven't seen you for—"but he quickly silenced her with his lips. It was a big one. "Two years," she finished as they came up for air.  
  
"We better head out. The subway's a madhouse this time of day," Lionel said as he picked up Hermione's bag. "I assume the rest of your luggage is coming?" Hermione didn't hear the question. She was still stuck on the word "subway".  
  
"Subway, sweetie?" she asked uneasily.  
  
"Yeah, I'd have you apparate, but you don't know where it is. Plus you'd have to wait for me, because...you know," he finished, a little embarrassed.  
  
"I know Lionel," she said sweetly with a kiss on the cheek. Lionel was a squib. "But the subway? Can't we take a cab or something?"  
  
"Take a cab that far across town? Are you crazy?!" Lionel laughed. "Unless you're an heiress to some huge company I'm unaware of, we can't afford a cab ride clear across the island. Why? Are you afraid of the subway?" he teased.  
  
"No, no. Of course not. Don't be silly," she assured, an obvious note of apprehensiveness in her voice.  
  
Hermione was just a little claustrophobic. Heading down into the gloomy depths of the New York underground, she held her breath and squeezed Lionel's hand. Once they were seated (it was actually quite amazing they found a seat), Hermione kept her eyes shut and thought of wide open spaces. She had been to NY before, but had never been on the subway, for obvious reasons. Luckily, the trip was short, with no unnecessary stops or break downs. Lionel laughed silently at Hermione the whole trip.  
  
They finally reached their street and gratefully (in Hermione's case) resurfaced. They reached Lionel's apartment in a matter of minutes: A plain, small-but-not-too-small one-bedroom flat in the Village. Hermione's luggage had been delivered already and she began to unpack. She paused when she took out a picture of her and Harry. A smile instinctively creeped across her lips, but was soon flipped over when she came to her senses. She turned it upside down in her suitcase and put it away. Hermione and Lionel went out to dinner that night and did a lot of catching up. Hermione neglected to mention Harry's name all night.  
  
As promised, Hermione wrote home often. Especially Ron. They had a very regular correspondence, and the distance didn't effect their friendship in the least. They still bickered, she still gave advice, and he still didn't take it. Also as promised, Hermione did not write Harry. Both were happy about this (for awhile). They were still furious at each other and refused to back down. Harry felt he was doing his duty protecting Hermione from someone that was obviously not right for her. And if she didn't heed his warning it wasn't his fault. But he still couldn't help but worry if she was happy and safe. Hermione felt Harry was being unnecessarily protective. She knew what was right for her, not Harry. And how could he just kick her out of his apartment like that? Subconsciously, Hermione knew Harry might be right. But she wouldn't let herself think that. Not only would that ruin a possibly very serious relationship, but it would mean having to go back and apologize to Harry, admitting she was wrong. Something she was not willing to do.  
  
Hermione and Lionel lived a relatively uneventful life in the Big Apple. Work-night's in-work-night's out-work-days off-work-romantic dinners-work- work. But one day Hermione got an unexpected and exciting letter from Ron. He was going to visit them! Hermione got everything ready for his stay. She finagled an expanding charm on the apartment, creating a bedroom for him. She got tickets to a Quidditch game, made reservations for dinner, and even set him up for a blind date with one of her girlfriends from work. Everything was ready for his arrival. 


	3. Visiting

Ch.3  
  
"Hermione!" Ron yelled across the pier. She was standing atop a crate, searching the crowd for that familiar flaming-red hair. Unfortunately, she was looking in completely the wrong direction. "Hermione!" he hollered again. She finally turned around and spotted her much-missed friend. She jumped off her platform, ran toward Ron, and leapt into his arms, showering him with kisses.  
  
"Ron, Ron, Ron! How have you been? I haven't seen you forever! How's your family? Does Ginny have a boyfriend? How's the joke shop? Are you ready? Let's go. We'll apparate to the apartment. Oh no! We can't! You don't know where it is. But I really don't want to go on the subway. Hmm...I say we spring for a cab. My treat. And then tonight—"  
  
"Hermione! Slow down. One thing at a time. Okay, here we go...I'm fine. I know I've missed you, too! Family's fine. Ginny's dating Seamus now. Joke shop's alive and kicking. Yes I'm ready to go. And I'll spring for a cab. Ok?", counting off his replies on his fingers.  
  
"Ok." Hermione said with a blush. They linked arms and headed for the street. Both of them grinning like idiots and continuing to chatter. When they found a cab Ron tentatively changed the subject to Harry.  
  
"So, Hermione, who else have you been keeping in touch with?" he asked.  
  
"You, my parents, a few muggle friends, and you know Lavender lives in Jersey now? What a coincidence! We have dinner every so often."  
  
"But you don't write to Harry?" he interrogated further.  
  
"Ronald, you know I haven't. Why would I? He doesn't want to talk to me, nor I him," she replied coolly.  
  
"You don't know that, Hermione. He doesn't admit it, but he does miss you." Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "He does! He always asks me how you're doing, if you're okay over here in New York." Hermione made a disbelieving noise. "Well, he doesn't actually come out and say 'How's Hermione?', but whenever I mention your name I can almost see his ears perk up. I know it. But he turns stony whenever I mention Lionel. He misses you. And I think you miss him, you just don't know it."  
  
Hermione was silent a few beats. "I doubt it, Ron," she said despairingly, and turned towards the window. She slipped into her own world, thinking of Harry. If she had been a romantic, she would have imagined a whimsical reunion with lots of kisses and tender touches and Harry telling his true love that he knew Lionel wasn't right for her because he was right for her. And they would live happily ever after.  
  
But Hermione was not a romantic. Instead her mind raced with thoughts of having to apologize to Harry. Or never apologizing and dying old and bitter because of her stubbornness. Or, the worst thought, having Harry proved right. Not only would she have to face Harry again, and have to ask forgiveness for her blindness, but it would mean the past three years with Lionel have been a sham. And he doesn't really love her. And she'd be all alone again. Maybe not alone in a sense that she didn't have anyone to turn to, but she didn't have anyone that was hers and only hers. Someone she could embrace at night, someone she could have a family with, someone to spend the rest of her life with, someone to love. And if it wasn't Lionel she didn't know who it would be.  
  
Even though she was still had at Harry and apologizing with not an option, she wanted to make up. And if Ron was telling the truth, Harry felt the same way. Hermione knew Harry too well to know that he wouldn't make the first move.  
  
Ron, Hermione, and Lionel had a wonderful time together. Even though Lionel wasn't Ron's favorite person in the world (for the same exact reasons as Harry), he endured him. He never voiced his opinions to Hermione because he had seen what that had done. He didn't want to risk it. And he knew Hermione would be devastated to lose Ron as well as Harry. Another reason Ron never told Hermione (one he actually didn't know about), and Harry did was because Ron didn't love Hermione. well, he did, but not like Harry.  
  
And those unthought romantic daydreams that never crossed Hermione's mind were exactly how Harry felt. Maybe Harry wasn't fully aware of it when they had had their altercation, but he certainly was now. Cutting Hermione out of his life hurt more than he thought it would. He wanted nothing more than for Hermione to realize her mistake and come back. He wouldn't even make her apologize. But Harry knew how stubborn she was; how stubborn he was. He knew things would never be the same.  
  
Ron's stay was happy, yet uneventful. But his constant reminding of Harry had planted a seed in Hermione's head. Soon after Ron left she sat down at her desk and began to write a letter. 


	4. Correspondance

Ch.4

Hermione was never one to procrastinate, but this was different. After refilling her ink bottle, dusting her desk, and making herself a pot of tea, she could no longer think of anything to do other than sit down and write to her long-lost friend. After who-knows-how-many minutes of tapping her quill and running her fingers through her still unmanageable mane, she finally set to writing.

_Dear Harry _(no, too mushy. don't want to sound apologetic)

_Selfish arrogant bastard_ (hmm, too hostile)

_To Whom it may concern:_ (too formal)

_Harry,_

_We really need to talk. I miss you, and if my sources are correct, you miss me, too. Please write back so we can make arrangement for you to visit the Big Apple._

_Love, _(most definitely not)

_Yours Truly, _(but I'm **not **his)

_Battered and broken, _(ugh. now I just sound desperate)

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

She nervously sealed the envelope and walked to the nearest public owlery. Horrid thoughts filled her head. Thoughts of Harry tossing the letter away as soon as he saw who it was from. Thoughts of a horrible nasty row with him when he arrived. Maybe never speaking to him again. _Please let this work out,_ she muttered to herself and to whatever higher power was out there.

Harry Potter groaned and rolled out of bed. "Bloody bird," he muttered to himself. "Hedwig, shut up! I'm coming!" he yelled at the squawking creature. But when he saw it wasn't Hedwig his annoyance quickly changed to curiosity. He didn't recognize this tawny. He clumsily shoved his glasses onto his face and stumbled across the room to let in the unfamiliar owl. "Well, where did you come from?" he asked the newfound feathered friend as he untied the letter from its outstretched leg. The handwriting on the front looked vaguely familiar, and an expectant smile unconsciously spread across his face as he tore open the letter. He absent-mindedly stroked the aviary messenger as he began to read. His eyes flew down to the signature, as they always do when one begins to read a note. The smile faded and his hand stopped abruptly, much to the discontent of the owl. His breath caught in his throat. His mind raced. _'A wedding invitation? No, Hermione's not that stupid. She wouldn't. Is she apologizing? If she's apologizing that means she knows he's not right. How did she find out? Did he hurt her?! I'll kill him! What if she's writing to tell me that she still hates me and never wants to see me again?' _He took a deep breath and began to read. He eagerly accepted her invitation, although not a little nervously. Her letter didn't sound very amiable or inviting, more obligatory than anything. Nevertheless, he did miss his 'Mione.

_Hermione,_

_Of course I will come visit you. I look forward to it. Next week? I'll be on the Monday ship, if it's all right with you. Please write back with your reply. _

_Love,_

_Harry_

The tawny owl had already left, so he called Hedwig over and quickly tied the letter to her leg. "It's for Hermione, remember her?" he asked his pet excitedly. She cooed softly. "She's in New York now. It's an awful long way." She fluffed her feathers haughtily and was off. He hoped this visit would make her realize her mistake. He enthusiastically got ready to make arrangements for his trip.


	5. Replies

Ch.5

Days went by with no reply from Harry. Hermione was getting anxious, but reminded herself that it was a long journey and public owls weren't always that reliable. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if Harry would ever write back. She began to muse whether or not Lionel was worth losing Harry. Sure, she loved Lionel, and she knew he loved her, but was it the kind of love she wanted? The more she thought of this, the less sure she was. Whenever they were having a romantic dinner, or taking a walk through Central Park, or just holding each other late at night, she would think _'This is what I want.' _ But then another thought would creep into her head: '_But not with him.' _ She couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't right, but she told herself she wouldn't let a silly idea that Harry planted in her head let her ruin a wonderful relationship.

Finally, nearly a week later, Hermione was awoken by a familiar hoot. Her eyes fluttered open and she jumped out of bed to open the window, waking Lionel in the process.

"Hedwig!" she squealed as she untied the letter from her outstretched leg.

"Hmmmarrgghh..."Lionel groaned as he sat up and stretched. "Who's that?" he asked wearily.

"It's Hedwig, Harry's owl. He finally wrote back!" She was so nervous and excited she was shaking.

"Oh," Lionel said sullenly. He no longer looked curious, but indignant. Hermione didn't notice this sudden change in mood. She tore open the letter and her eyes began scanning the page in front of her. Her pale face began to flush and a huge grin plastered itself on her face.

"Yay!" she screamed as she flung herself at her boyfriend. "He's coming on the Monday ship! Oh no! That's in two days! I'm supposed to write him back and tell him it's Ok, but if I do that now it won't get to him in time! I'll have to floo Ron and have him tell Harry," she said quickly. She flew off to the living room to talk to Ron, leaving Lionel to sulk. She didn't notice how stiff and solemn he was when she had told him the news.

Lionel sat there and brooded about Harry's upcoming visit while Hermione was talking to Ron. He knew all about Harry and Hermione's relationship. And he also knew that Hermione might love him. Really love him. Plus, why wouldn't she? He knew all about Harry being the Boy-Who-Lived, his defeat of Voldemort, and his amazing Quidditch skills. He had been on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ a number of times. He had been named one of the top ten most eligible bachelors of the wizarding world for the past five years. Lionel was not only threatened by this competition he had created in his mind, but was also jealous of what Harry and Hermione once had. Would that relationship return once they saw each other again? He didn't want that to happen, but what could he do?

Hermione returned a few minutes later, that silly smile still glued to her face. She sat down next to Lionel on their bed. "I can't wait to see Harry again. I hope we can sort things out. But when he sees us he'll know how wrong he was," she said with a kiss. "Well, I was going to get some things done at work today, then head to Jerze to see Lav. I haven't visited her for ages. What are your plans?" She got up from the bed and began to get her clothes ready for the day.

Lionel snapped back to reality. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll go over to Tom's, see what he's up to today. See a movie," he said absent-mindedly.

"All right, sweetie," she said with another kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to pop in the shower, then I'm off. Have fun."

While Lionel was moodily sipping his coffee, he heard Hermione singing in the shower...she never sang in the shower.

"Let's go, mate! Wak-ey, wak-ey, eggs and bac-ey!" Ron sang at his slumbering best friend. Harry groaned.

"What in bloody hell are you doing her, you bugger?" he said into his pillow.

"I've got good news. Come on, now, Sunshine. Up, up, up!"

"Good God, you sound uncannily like your mother when you do that," he said slyly.

"Shove it, Harry," Ron replied sourly. Harry laughed and rolled out of bed.

"So what is it, Ron, my man?"

"I spoke to your one and only this morning," he said furtively.

"And by 'one and only' you mean..."

"Hermione, you dolt," he shot back.

"Ah...you know you are a complete ass, but do proceed," he said with a feigned dignified air.

"Right then. Ms. Granger flooed me this morning. She stated that she got your letter just this morrow. Our wise confidant knew she wouldn't have time to reply so she told me to tell you she can't wait and will be looking forward to the Monday ship with unrestrainable anticipation. She'll be on the dock waiting for you, kind sir," he said, mocking Harry's gentlemanly tone.

"Thanks, mate. Did she say how long I'm welcome?"

"Nah. Do you have any tea, or coffee, or vodka around here?" he asked, heading for the door.

"Ron, no drinking," he said sternly.

"Right, right. How about some coffee and Kahlua? That's not technically drinking," he asked hopefully.

"Ronald..."

"Fine, fine. I'll just have a cuppa and be off, then," he said glumly.

As Ron headed for the kitchen, Harry laid back on his bed and smiled at the ceiling. He was going to see her again. It had been so long. He didn't like to admit it, but he missed her so much. Maybe seeing him again would spark something inside of her, just like not seeing her had done with him. Maybe she'd come to her senses. Maybe he wouldn't come back to London alone. Romantic thoughts filled his head until they were savagely interrupted by a loud clatter from the kitchen, no doubt a dish broken at the hands of Ron. Harry rolled out of bed and went to clean it up, still dreaming of his 'Mione.


	6. Reunion

Ch.6

Once again, the dock was swarming with people. Hermione smiled to herself at the thought of how many happy reunions had taken place on this very spot. Not only hers, but complete strangers'. She thought that if she were a writer, the dock would be an amazing place to people watch. She knew muggle writers loved to people watch in airports and wondered what the hot-watching spot for wizard-writers was. But a pair of passing witches yanked her back into reality. They were muttering something about "Harry Potter". She quickly followed them, weaving in and out of the crowd, catching bits and pieces of their conversation. Apparently, word had gotten out that the famous, no, _infamous_, Harry Potter, would be arriving on this very ship. Hermione rolled her eyes when she saw the knot of witches giggling, wearing a mix of Gryffindor sweaters, Appleby Arrow (Harry's teams) shirts, and badges displaying a flashing lightning bolt. _'How revolting,' _Hermione thought to herself. But then she laughed when she realized how jealous all these witches would be to see Harry come after Hermione when he got off. She pushed herself to the front of the dock and began searching the throng of magical travelers getting off the ship for the same person most everyone was searching for.

He was one of the last to get off, securely flanked by two especially Crabbe and Goyle-esque bodyguards (something Hermione would be sure to make fun of him for later) and hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He was wearing a stocking cap to hide his trademark hair, but tufts of the unruly raven mass could be seen. Everyone knew it was him. And because of this, everyone started for him. Hermione was pushed and shoved this way and that, and spun around to yell at an especially riotous witch when she fell over someone's feet (probably her own) and began to speedily, and ungracefully, drop towards the salty dock.

She felt a pair of arms grab her just in time and set her straight. Her back was to her rescuer, but she immediately recognized the tingle up and down her spine. They both stood there, paralyzed, for eons. Screaming witches were begging for an autograph, but he just stood there, frozen, staring at some wild brown hair.

Hermione slowly turned around, and looked at her shoes. She tentatively raised her head, only to be met by a pair of impersonal sunglasses. She smirked, sighed, and reached up to remove them. She flicked them off, and her breath caught in her throat. _'Wow,' _was all her addled brain could manage. It had been forever and a day since she had seen those emerald orbs. It was like going home, looking into them again. And, wait, were those _tears_ swimming around in Harry Potter's eyes? It couldn't be. She smiled at the thought.

But that was exactly what they were. And apparently Hermione's smile was all they needed to escape through his lashes. She laughed when the first one slid down his cheek.

"A little sentimental, aren't we, Mr. Potter?" she said as she too began to cry.

"Hermione," he whispered, as he gathered her close to him. They stood there rocking back and forth for…well, a long time. They could hear cameras flashing and quills scratching and witches screaming, but they ignored it all. They were lost. They were both so happy to be back together. They wanted to stay like that forever, but Hermione, ever the level-headed one, snapped them back to the dock.

"Well, Harry," she said as she wiped her wet cheek, "we better get you away from your fan club before they eat you alive." She sniffed and grabbed his hand, weaving through the sea of people out into the street. Once they got into the heart of New York, fewer people would recognize him, and even fewer would make a fuss. She hailed a cab and they climbed in, leaving nearly a hundred witches dreadfully disappointed.

Hermione turned to Harry and opened her mouth to say something, but once again her breath was caught in her throat. He was still crying. And still smiling. "Now, Harry," she reasoned, "we must stop this crying business. We'll never get anything done, and I always look dreadful after a good cry." She reached into her purse for a tissue for both of them.

"You're right," he sighed. "Like usual." He took the tissue, but just fiddled with it. "I've just missed you so much, 'Mione."

"Oh, Harry. I've missed you, too." She threw herself on him and began sobbing.

"I thought you said we had to stop this crying business," he said.

"Oh, just one more," she wailed between sobs.

"Alright," he said as he heaved her onto his lap.

Lionel was still at work when Harry and Hermione got home. She set to putting on a kettle and he snooped around the apartment awhile, shedding coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. Hermione came back into the living room, took Harry's things and showed him to his room. Things were beginning to tense up now that the initial reunion was over. She plopped primly onto the sofa and patted the seat next to her. He nervously sat down.

"Well, Harry," she began. She stopped. What was she supposed to say? _'What have you been up to?'_ According to Ron, absolutely nothing she hadn't found out from newspapers and tabloids. And if there was something else (especially some_one_ else) she didn't really want to know. Plus, what if she said something about Lionel and they got in another fight. She hadn't waited this long to just throw it all away after an hour together. But then she looked up and saw his expecting green eyes searching her face.

"Well, Harry," she started again. "It's been a long time. But I want you to know that I still love you." She scooted closer and took his hand. "I want to put everything behind us. It's not worth losing us."

Harry was thrilled. The thought of leaning in and kissing her was just beginning to cross his mind when a key jiggled in the door and Lionel stepped in. Harry had forgotten about him. All of a sudden horrible thoughts filled his head, thoughts of the fight, of being alone after she left, and of things that hadn't happened, things he had only imagined. Things he didn't dare put into words, even in his head. He started to tense up, and Hermione sensed it, since she was still holding his hand. She didn't know what to do. Just then, the kettle screamed.


	7. The Question

Hermione jumped up to get the tea and had just disappeared into the kitchen when Lionel entered. Harry quickly stood and turned to great him. After Lionel's initial shock at seeing this international wizard celebrity, he stiffly shook Harry's hand.

"Where's 'Mione?" he asked coldly.

Harry was a little taken aback at Lionel's usage of what he thought was Ron and his exclusive nickname for Hermione. "Er, she's in the kitchen, making tea."

Lionel hung up his coat and scarf and stalked into the next room to talk to his girlfriend. Harry wasn't sure whether he should follow or not, so he tiptoed across the living room slowly, hovering around the door.

"Hullo, honey. You met Harry already, I expect?" she said. He could hear a hint of something in her voice. Fear? His heart started to race.

"Yes, I did. You brought him back here?"

"Well, of course. I wasn't going to leave him at the dock. What did you expect me to do?"

"Stay in public. So if there was any funny stuff going on I could at least read it in the paper."

"Are you suggesting Harry and I are having an affair? He just got here! I haven't seen him for years!"

"Shut up. I don't care if you are cheating on me. You might as well be, the way you treat me."

Harry knew Hermione so well, he could almost hear her open her mouth to retaliate, yet she said nothing. Lionel stormed out of the kitchen as Harry jumped away from the door.

"Well, Lionel. Heading out?" he asked with an obvious air of hostility. Lionel ignored him, threw on his coat, and slammed the door.

Harry turned back to the kitchen and peeked in. A shaken Hermione was standing over the sink, obviously trying to compose herself. Harry was scared. And getting angry. He could feel the fury bubbling up inside him. '_Who could do this to 'Mione? I'll kill him.' _But then Hermione straightened up and began placing cups, saucers, and the kettle on a tray. He hurried back to the couch and tried to look nonchalant as she brought in the tea.

"There we are," she said, placing the tray on the coffee table and beginning to pour Harry's tea. She looked like she had been crying.

"Hermione…" he said cautiously. Her head snapped up, but she quickly looked away. She had been crying. "Hermione," he repeated, more strongly. "How often does this happen?"

"Does what happen?"

"Hermione! Tell me! Does he treat you like this all the time?!"

"He treats me just fine, thank you. We're _not_ going to do this the first night you're back."

"Well, we're going to have to do it… Fine. You're right. Not tonight."

Several beats paused as Hermione continued fixing her tea just the way she liked it and Harry stared stormily into his cup. He didn't want to get into this again, without even properly making up first. But this was Hermione, his best friend, the girl he'd grown up with. He could talk to her about anything. And he would do anything to protect her. He couldn't just sit idly by while she ruined her life.

But Harry also knew Hermione was stubborn and wasn't easily persuaded. Something he usually admired in her. The other characteristic that made a tactful approach difficult was her cleverness. She couldn't be tricked into giving anything away. It looked like the only way to go about this was a swift, direct attack. A hard-hitting one that took her breath away and made her _want _to talk about it. And he knew exactly what to say. If it backfired, the consequences would be devastating. But if it worked…

"Hermione," he said slowly. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" she asked quickly. Harry smirked. He also knew she was a curious witch. But then he remembered what he was going to say and his stomach turned. He took a gulp of tea. It was still too hot. "Yes? Harry, you can tell me anything."

He began to sweat. Why was he so nervous? She was his best friend. If anyone would understand, it would be her. But still…he began to think of lies to get out of this. Something to make up so he wouldn't have to say what he had planned.

Hermione scooted closer and took his hand. "Come now, Harry. It's me." She lifted his chin and looked into his eyes. "We've known each other too long to keep secrets." Harry nodded and set down his tea. He took a deep breath, turned to face her, and looked at her hard for a few moments.

"Hermione," he began again. "I want you to come to England with me. I love you. And I'll love you for the rest of my life. You can't deny you feel the same way. I know you inside and out, and I know you love me back. I know deep down, you know Lionel isn't right. The only reason you're with him is to make me realize how much I love you." She moved to dispute the last comment, but Harry shushed her. "OK, you may not have meant to, but it sure did. Not having you there to talk to, to bounce ideas off of, to have real conversations with, just to _be_ with made me recognize just how much I needed you. Every time I realized you were thousands of miles away, with another man, made my stomach clench. So, what do you say, Hermione. Will you marry me?" He couldn't believe what he had just done. And neither could Hermione. She sat there opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish with frizzy hair for several minutes. Harry's smile disappeared and his heart sunk.

"I have to go…get the…" she stammered and walked to the kitchen. Harry gulped and chased after her.


	8. Going Home

"Hermione, wait," he said as he ran after her. She stopped and leaned against the sink. "Hermione, you can't deny it. We love each other. Nothing except true love could get through what we've gone through. Please come home with me."

"What the hell are you doing to me, Harry?! You couldn't have done this after graduation when I _did_ love you? When I was _willing_ to marry you? But now I've found someone. I'm happy. I can't just leave! What the hell?" she screamed. "What the hell?" she repeated under her breath, mostly to herself.

"But why can't you leave? What's keeping you here? Lionel? He doesn't love you. I love you. And you love me! I'm sorry I couldn't realize this sooner, but how was I supposed to know you were in love with me? You never told me. But I love you now. And I'll always love you. Unlike this joke of a man you call a boyfriend." He walked over to her and stared her down. "Please?" he whispered.

"Damn you, Harry Potter. You and those big green eyes," she said with a smile as she reached up for a kiss. After they were through cough "rekindling" their passion, they decided it would be best to leave while Lionel was still gone. Hermione hurried to get a pen and paper to start drafting Dear John letters while Harry started packing her things. They were both so absorbed in their tasks and in their excitement they didn't hear the door open.

A drunken Lionel swaggered into the kitchen where Hermione was working. She startled and jumped up. "Oh, Lionel. You're home early," she said nervously.

"Yeah, well, I have to keep an eye on my woman, especially since she has her boyfriend staying with us," he said with a slur.

"Yes, Lionel. Well, I have some bad news. I'm afraid it's over. I'm going home with Harry. I'm sorry, Lionel. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, my ass! You're not going anywhere! Get over here you little slut! I'll teach you to leave Lionel Richardson!" he shouted as he stumbled towards her.

"Lionel, don't you dare touch me! Harry!!" she screamed.

In the next room, Harry was yanked from his romantic reverie by his "damsel in distress". His heart began to race and he pulled his wand out of his pocket as he sprinted to the kitchen. He saw a cowering Hermione in the corner with Lionel's hand raised. His fury paired with his amazing wizarding abilities did the job without an incantation. Harry aimed and fired, taking Lionel out cold. He ran to Hermione, checking her all over to make sure she was okay.

"Did he touch you?" he asked quickly.

"No, no. He didn't hit me," she replied, shaken.

"We're leaving. Now," he said sternly, helping her up. "Get only what you absolutely need. I can buy anything else you leave behind. Quick. I don't know what I did to him, but if he wakes up when we're still here things could get a lot worse for him," he said darkly. He kissed her again and went to get his things.

They met moments later in the living room, Hermione laden with just a duffel bag and her coat.

"Okay, here's the plan," he said. "We go to the American Ministry and ask them for some International Apparition Passes. They're sure to give them to us. I've done it before in Germany and Spain. Then once we get to London, we forgot all about this. And we never speak of Lionel again, agreed?"

"Absolutely. Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she said as she hugged him and began to cry. "I can't believe I didn't listen to you. How can you ever—"

"Not now, Hermione. Trust me, I forgive you. It's fine. But we have to get out of here," he said as he glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen door. He gave her a confident smile and another quick kiss as they hurried out the door.

Harry held Hermione on the cab ride to the Ministry. With her head on his chest, she could hear his heart beating. It was a most irregular heartbeat. It would speed up and begin to race. And she would wonder what was wrong. But then she would hear it slow back down and he would give her a squeeze. She reached up to caress his cheek to calm him down. She didn't want him to worry about anything. It was okay now.

The Ministry was just as easy as Harry said it would be. With a flash of smile and a few subtle hints at the final battle, they had the Passes in no time. Harry knew he would pay for this in tabloids later, but he didn't care. Hermione was coming home. For good. They would get married and Ron would be his best man and Hermione would walk down the aisle in a beautiful white gown and they would buy a cottage and have little Harry's and Hermione's running around, learning to play wizard's chess, going to Hogwarts. He chuckled at himself when he realized how sappy he was becoming. All because of this little witch next to him. But then with a pop she was gone. He started at first, because it had caught him off guard, but once he came to his senses he quickly followed Hermione to his old apartment.

He apparated to see a wide-eyed Hermione walking slowly around the apartment, looking at all the pictures, tracing the edges of some with her index finger, and smiling to herself. He watched her for a few minutes, beaming on the inside. This is all he wanted the past years. He finally had her home. She was his.

She had stopped in front of a picture of Harry and herself just after their graduation. Harry had her cradled in his arms like honeymooners, she was waving her diploma about, and they were both grinning like idiots. And every few shouts and waves, Harry would give her a big wet smack on the cheek. He crept up behind her and slid his arms about her. They stood there staring at the picture for a long time.

"So you knew you loved me, clear back then?" he whispered.

"Of course. But then I gave up. It was too hard waiting. You know how impatient I am. I'm so sorry."

"No, 'Mione. I'm sorry. It took me so long to come to my senses. But all is forgiven now?"

"Absolutely," she smirked as the turned around and they (once again) began smooching it up.

They had made their way to the couch, but were too tired to keep going. The night had been a crazy one. They popped on the TV and fell asleep to the sounds of the BBC2.


	9. Author's Note

Author's Note:

Hello everyone. I would like to thank everyone for the lovely reviews, and I'm ecstatic that you are requesting so much updating! I'm working as fast as I can, but not so fast it's hurting the quality of the writing, I hope. I would much appreciate a little more critiquing, though. Some friendly criticism. I'm not asking for flames, mind you. Just your opinions on how I could better my writing and / or the story.

Also, there have been questions after a few chapters whether or not that was the end. Don't worry, dear Reader, you will absolutely know when it is the end. (Mostly because I will say 'The End', or something to that effect.) Thanks again for the support, and I hope I can please you with the rest of my tale.

Apples, Kisses, and Shoes,

BohemianMuse


	10. Morning Ailments

Harry woke up in a daze on the couch. As soon as he came to his senses, he realized Hermione was gone. Had it all been a dream? Had he never gone to New York? Or had she left? Gone back to the city, to Lionel, to her old life?

But then he heard retching in the bathroom and a toilet flush. A groggy Hermione staggered into the living room, wiping her mouth.

"Sorry, Harry," she said when she saw he was up. "I didn't mean to wake you. Guess I'm just feeling a little under the weather this morning. But as long as I'm up," she continued, much more perkily, "shall I make breakfast? I've a hankering for some grits. Ever had them? They're from the South. The South of America, that is. They didn't really trip my trigger the first time I had them, but I think I'd like to try them again." She rambled on about grits and her trip to the South as she made her way to the kitchen. Harry sat up and watched her, bewildered. She was acting very strangely. Hermione had never had a sick day in her life, to Harry's knowledge. And since when did she like Southern food? Southern food she wasn't even fond of, to boot! Something was awry. He got up and followed her into the kitchen.

"'Mione? Are you okay?" he asked as he poked his head around the corner. She was sitting Indian style on the floor, surrounded by pots and pans. But the top half of her was still digging in the cupboard.

"Oh, yeah…fine," she grunted as she strained to reach something in the back. She suddenly popped out of the cabinet and straightened up. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I don't even know what goes _in_ grits!" she shouted with a laugh. "I don't feel like cooking this morning anyway," she said as she begin putting the pots and pans away. "Where shall we go, Harry?" she asked from inside the cupboard again. "Any new places opened since I've been gone?"

"Nothing very good. We could just go down to the bakery and get muffins and things. But, if you wanted a big breakfast, we could go to Emma's," he replied with a yawn as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Oh, no," Hermione said standing up, "definitely a big…" Then she turned ghostly pale, clutched at her stomach, and her hand fluttered to her forehead. Her knees gave out just as Harry caught her and guided her to his chair. "Ooh, on second thought, I don't think I could handle a big breakfast with sausage and pan…pan…" but then she ran to the bathroom. A concerned and confused Harry chased after her.

Hermione just barely made it to the toilet. Harry held back her hair for her while she…well, until she finished. He laughed at the thought of how romantic their first morning back together was. But he couldn't imagine why Hermione was so sick. _It must have been the drama from last night_, he concluded. After Hermione was through, she leaned back and sat on her heels as she rested her head against the wall.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'll be fine. You go have breakfast, go out today, have fun. I'll just stay in, drink lots of fluids, keep to bed. Go on. I don't want to ruin your day."

"Now what gave you the silly idea that I would ever leave you when you were sick?! I'm staying right here and taking care of you." Hermione made to say something, but he kept on going. "I'm putting you to bed, getting you a sick bucket, and making you some tea and toast. And if you don't feel better by this afternoon, I'm calling a Healer. And I'll not hear anymore about it," he said mock-sternly. "Now come on," he said, heaving her into his arms.

"Harry, I can at least _walk,_" she protested. But he would have none of it. He gently laid her down in bed, conjured up a cool compress, and summoned a bucket from the kitchen. She laid in the dark while he made her upset-tummy breakfast. After he sat there and watched her eat and rubbed her belly for awhile, she tried to get up.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked, holding her steady.

"I feel fine. I was going to go tidy up the kitchen. If I recall, you may be quite the chef, but you're no Mr. Clean," she said slyly as she moved again to get up.

"I don't think so! You're staying right here, all day. I don't want you to get worse!"

"Harry, really. I promise I'm fine. Looks like your magical flu-breakfast cured me! Really, I'm fine," she said softly. She moved in to give him a kiss, but he backed away. She looked surprised and hurt. "What's the matter?"

"Hermione, have you forgotten that you have been vomiting all morning?! I can handle kissing you with garlic breath, or onion breath, or even morning breath, but _not_ vomit breath," he said, as serious as death.

"Since when did you become such a germ freak?" she laughed as she rolled out of bed.

"Hermione! It's _vomit!_ Upchuck! Puke! It would be like licking the toilet you just threw up into! I love you a lot, but not that much."

"Oh, shut up. Now you're just getting gross," she said as she tossed a pillow at him. She blew a raspberry and ran out of the room before he could get her back. She returned a few minutes later and jumped on top of him.

"There. All squeaky clean," she said as she bared her teeth at him like a five-year-old.

"Good. Now I'm not afraid to do this," as he rolled them over and kissed her passionately. Things began to 'progress', but Hermione stopped him as Harry stopped kissing to take off his shirt.

"Wait, Harry. Not yet. Not like this. I want it be…special. God, I sound like such a school-girl. I'm sorry," she said, wringing her hands and avoiding his eyes.

"It's okay, 'Mione. Really. I completely understand." He gently took hold of her chin and made her look at him. "Special," he whispered as he kissed her softly once more. He slid around to lean against the headboard and motioned for Hermione to sit next to him. She immediately complied and curled up underneath his arm. "So what should we do today, since shagging is against the rules?" he asked with a smirk. "You are feeling better right? We don't have to go out if you don't want. No, you should stay in and rest. Forget I said anything."

"No, no! I am feeling better. Let's do something. I haven't been back for so long, it'll be good to see everything again. Let's pretend I'm a tourist! You can take me around and show me the sites," she exclaimed. She had jumped onto her knees and was facing him. She almost looked like a puppy dog, and if she had had a tail, Harry was sure it would be wagging. He couldn't say no to a face like that. Not that he wanted to, anyway. It sounded like a wonderful idea.

"All right then, you get a camera and a Hawaiian shirt, I'll make up an itinerary, and I'll meet you in the living room in half an hour," he said with a wink. Hermione gave him a broad smile and kiss on the cheek before jumping off the bed and into the shower.


	11. Outings

Harry had the whole day planned out. They would start with Big Ben and Parliament then make a bee-line to Buckingham Palace and visit with the guards. Then lunch at Harrod's and onto the Eye and the Tower. And he knew she couldn't wait to see the new wizarding museum in Diagon Alley. Finally, a Thai take-out picnic in Bransbury Wood and a show to make the day complete. Of course, Hermione would know nothing of the plans and just have to go with the flow, something Harry knew she didn't enjoy doing. But this would be worth it. And did he have something else up his sleeve as well?

Hermione, not being the girly type, was ready to go in twenty minutes. She was never one for make-up, so after a quick shower, throwing on some jeans and a sweater, and brushing through her hair she was ready.

"All set," she sang as the strode into the living room. "What are the plans, Mr. Tour guide?" she asked as she pulled on her gloves and knotted her scarf.

Harry jumped up to help her on with her coat. "It's a surprise," he whispered as she lowered her arms into the sleeves.

"Harry, I hate surprises," she whined. "Just tell me."

"Ah ah ah! Then it wouldn't be a surprise. I promise you'll love this one," he said with a wink and a sly grin. "Now, let's go!" he said and clapped his hands together. "We've got a tight schedule," he shouted as he opened the door for her.

"We can't apparate?" she asked.

"Er, no. It's mostly muggle sites we're seeing today. Must be very inconspicuous and all that jazz," he said apologetically.

"That's okay. The fresh air will do me good," she said, pulling her knit cap on and marching into the hallway. Harry followed her and shut the door tight. They walked down the stairs and onto the street arm in arm. As usual when walking in the wizarding world with the Great Harry Potter, Hermione got several second glances. They immediately recognized Harry of course, and soon after would remember reading about the bushy-haired best friend/side kick/lover(?). Apparently, news of their "breakup" had reached the _Daily Prophet_ and everyone was concerned about the loss of "the Trio". Several people gave approving smiles when they saw the Dream Team had reunited and one wizened witch even approached them and congratulated Hermione on "finally catching Harry". No doubt a Skeeter-esque reporter would be nearby and catch every word of Hermione's reply (and then twist them to whatever slant they were going for).

As soon as they got out of Diagon Alley the looks and whispers ceased. (Or at least diminished significantly.) Hermione felt Harry relax as they left the magical community. As much as he loved the wizarding world, he couldn't stand to be gawked at. He knew this relationship would pull Hermione back into the spotlight, and he gave her hand an apologetic squeeze.

Their muggle morning went by without a hitch. Hermione even ordered a hefty lunch at Harrod's, which calmed Harry's fear that she was still sick. Hermione was ecstatic to go to the new museum, though it was a little awkward to see an exhibit about themselves. It was very thorough, however. Complete with a piece of Harry's old Nimbus 2000, one of Hermione's S.P.E.W. badges, and Ron's broken wand from second year. It brought back a barrage of memories, some good, some bad. They left the museum in a very pensive mood.

"Harry, do you have any regrets?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"I regret a lot of things, Hermione," he replied huskily. A few beats passed. She obviously wanted him to continue. "I regret taking everyone to the Department of Mysteries and risking everyone's lives, I regret letting Neville sacrifice himself, I regret trusting Hagrid when he told me he wasn't sick, and I regret letting you leave," he finished, stopping at a bench to sit down. "It's a fair list, I'd say," he said in a low voice.

Hermione sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She sighed heavily and he put his arm around her. "I'm so sorry for you, Harry. You've done so much good, but seen so much bad. I was lucky, I could have walked away for it all. You couldn't."

"But you didn't walk away," he said questioningly. "Why not?"

"I couldn't leave you, Harry. You were all alone. Ron would have been little help. I would never leave you, Harry. Loved you. I still love you. I'll never leave you again," she said as tears began to roll down her cheeks. She looked up and he was smiling at her. But he was crying, too.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me, Hermione." She smiled back and put her hand to his cheek.

"And you have no idea how much I want to make you happy," she said. She searched his face and, apparently finding what she had been looking for, captured his lips. He kissed her back, but Harry was never one for PDA's. He pulled away first.

"Come on," he said, standing up. "We've got more to do today. Plus, there will be plenty of time for that later," he said with a wink.

Hermione stood up and took his arm. They walked, reminiscing about happier school days. Hermione didn't notice Harry fingering the small velvet box in his pocket.


	12. Another AN

Yet another Author's Note:

I've received reviews that hint at the fact that some readers assume this is the end. And now that I think about it, it would be quite a suitable ending. However, it isn't. I will tell you, though, that the end is very tragic and angst-ridden. So if you're all about the fluff (which I usually am) you can stop now. The ending may come as a nasty shock to some, so I'm just warning you. I will take no offense if you stop reading now and go on thinking Harry and Hermione get married and live happily ever after (because that sounds just peachy to me as well.) But if you'd like to see how the story _really_ ends, you can expect many more chapters.

Apples, Kisses, and Shoes,

BohemianMuse


	13. St Mungo's

They walked arm in arm through Barnsbury Wood, her head resting gently on his shoulder as they remembered all the adventures they got themselves into at Hogwarts. They didn't mention any of the tragedies, of which there were several. Too many than either of them deserved.

The wind whipped about them. Hermione was sufficiently bundled, but the cold stung her exposed face and ears. Harry pulled his coat tighter about him and wish he'd had been smarter and brought a hat and scarf, or at least some gloves. Hermione, in her motherly way, noticed this and clasped his hands in between her own gloved ones and began rubbing, continually rambling on and on. Harry had already decided the picnic was not a good idea in this weather, so they started making their way toward the restaurant, hurrying towards its heat and warmth. Unfortunately, it was quite a walk.

They continued walking and talking, huddled together. They had ceased their nostalgic chatter and were silently enjoying each others' presence. But Hermione suddenly stopped and clutched at her stomach. She swayed on the spot slightly before her knees gave and she sank into Harry's arms. He searched her face with fearful eyes to find she had obviously passed out. Why, he didn't know. His heart began to race as he said her name and patted her cheek, trying to get a reaction. He carried her to a bench and set her down to examine her. He didn't know what he was looking for. He hadn't taken any Healing classes in school and had no idea where to begin. Just as he was about to panic, her eyes fluttered open. He breathed a sigh of relief, but was still afraid. Her face was deathly pale and she looked terribly ill.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay?! We've got to get you to St. Mungo's. Oh, but you're obviously too weak to apparate," he said as she slumped forward into Harry. "Okay," he said, setting her back upright. "I'll flag the Knight Bus and we'll get you set in no time." Fear and apprehension tainted his voice. He stuck out his arm, using the other one to support Hermione, and in no time the purple triple-decker bus was screeching to a halt next to him.

He bundled her in his arms and pushed Stan out of the way. He was right in the middle of his welcoming speech and had yet to notice the seriousness of the situation.

"St. Mungo's, right away!" he hollered at Ernie. Harry set Hermione down on one of the beds and again began whispering her name. She was only half-conscious with her eyes periodically rolling back and her whole body was limp in Harry's arms. Ernie and Stan just stared at them for a few seconds, allowing the scene to sink in.

"What are you waiting for?!" he shouted, anger mingling with the fear in his tone. He turned back to her as Ernie sped off, going faster (if possible) than Harry's first ride on the Knight Bus.

He did his best to steady the bed with one hand and keep Hermione in the other one. His eyes never left her face until they reached St. Mungo's. Harry threw whatever money was in his pocket at Stan, carried her off the bus, and practically ran into the hospital.

Surprisingly for St. Mungo's, the reception room was fairly empty. There was no line at the desk, which didn't really matter because Harry would have pushed himself to the front anyway.

"Please, it's my…" Harry started. But what was she? She was no longer his friend, that much was for sure. Girlfriend? That sounded so juvenile, it didn't have enough emotion. Fiancee? Not yet. She would have been in a few minutes if this hadn't happened. So he gulped and went on. "She's passed out. I don't know what's wrong," he said anxiously.

"Yes, yes, son," the nurse behind the desk said, trying to sound comforting. "It looks like she's starting to come around," she said, glancing at Hermione, who in fact was starting to wake up and take in her surroundings. "But I'll call a Healer straight away. Please have a seat," she finished, standing and hurrying down the hall.

Harry carried Hermione to one of the institutionalized chairs lining the walls and set her down gently. He kneeled in front of her and peered at her. Her face was now flushed and she was breathing raggedly.

"Wh-what happened?" she asked, once again bringing her hand to her stomach. The other she rested her head in.

"I'm not sure. You just collapsed. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Has this ever happened before?" he said quickly, continually searching her face. His eyes were filled with so much worry she had to chuckle.

"I feel," she began. But then she gave another shudder as Harry tensed and grabbed her upper arms. She quickly recovered. "Strange," she managed to get out. Harry stood and turned to see what was taking the Healer so long, but he almost walked into him.

"What seems to be the problem?" the man asked. He seemed a little young to be a Healer, Harry thought, but he was desperate.

"Well, she just, passed out while we were walking in the park," Harry replied.

"I don't feel right," Hermione said, massaging her stomach.

"Well, we'll get you examined straight away then," he said reassuringly. With a flick of his wand Hermione was floating down the hall in front of him, Harry trailing behind like a lost dog.

"Sir," said the nurse that had accompanied the Healer, "you'll have to wait here." She grasped his shoulder and motioned towards the waiting room.

"But—" he began to protest, glancing at the bobbing Hermione.

"I'm sorry, sir. Trust me, though, your friend will be just fine," she said with a smile.

Harry reluctantly took a seat and ran his fingers through his hair, making it even messier than before. He nervously bounced his knees and chewed on his bottom lip, continuously glancing down the hallway. His stomach was in knots and he didn't know what to do with himself. He took to pacing, as any man does when in a hospital waiting room. Horrible thoughts and images ran through his head. What if this was it? What if Hermione was really ill? What if they never got to spend any more time together? He almost fainted at the thought, so he decided to sit back down again. His mouth was dry and he felt extremely tired and terribly alert all at once.

After what seemed like three days (which was in fact only about half an hour), the Healer came into the waiting room with a solemn face. Harry's heart sunk and he tried to gulp, but it got caught in his throat, leaving him with quite the fish face.

"Mr. Potter," he began. Harry wondered how he knew his name, but that thought was quickly pushed out of his mind. "It seems Ms. Granger is pregnant." He paused.

Harry's mind raced. His face lit up at this news. He would be a dad? He had always dreamed…but then his biology lessons caught up with his paternal desires. His face swiftly ran through a series of no less than 18 emotions. But the main ones included confusion, anger, sympathy, confusion again, indecisiveness, acceptance, and finally, the need to see his 'Mione.

"Where is she?" he asked, standing up.

"Wait, there's more I have to tell you," the Healer said. Apparently he wasn't experienced in breaking news because he was blatantly nervous. "It seems Ms. Granger's body is not accepting the baby. Now, in Muggle medicine, this would be a lost cause, but we think we can save both child and mother."

"Well, what are you waiting for? What are you sitting here telling me this for?! Shouldn't you be doing something? Mixing some potions or mumbling some incantations for her?!"

"Mr. Potter, please. She's doing fine, and we've done all we can for tonight. She will have to stay here for awhile, however," he said. His tone lifted at the end of his sentence, as if he were asking a question. The Healer had obviously become afraid of Harry, being witness to these few emotional outbursts. (But he had yet to see Harry in a real stupor.)

"Well, can I see her?" he asked gruffly.

The Healer replied timidly, "She's sleeping now, but I can take you to her room." They both stalked down the hallway silently, the Healer so he didn't upset Harry again, and Harry because he was still confused about the recent news. They got on the lift and the Healer said aloud the number "3". The lift shuddered and began its ascent to the third floor. Harry continued to furrow his brow and nibble on his bottom lip as his mind raced.

After walking down another hallway, they reached a door with a brass "42" on it. The Healer opened the door and stepped aside to allow Harry inside. Harry stopped and sighed at the sight of Hermione. After all the bad thoughts, he was so thankful to see her again. The Healer quietly closed the door and went back to his office, hoping he wouldn't have to see Harry again that night.

Hermione was sleeping peacefully in a plain but comfortable bed in her private room. Apparently the Healers and nurses at St. Mungo's knew of Harry's wealth (but then again, who in the wizarding world didn't?) and put Hermione in the best facilities. Harry was thankful that there were no machines beeping and buzzing at him, as he knew there would have been at a muggle hospital. He quietly dragged a chair next Hermione and sat staring at her for a long time. He wouldn't wake her up, that was for sure. Not after she'd gone all through that. Harry wondered if the Healer had told her the news, as well. He would have had to, wouldn't he? He wondered what she had thought of it all. If she was worried. If she regretted it. He had so many questions for her, but they would have plenty of time for them when she awoke. _Wouldn't they?_ For now he let her sleep, gently stroking her hair until he dozed off, too.


	14. Questions

Hermione's eyes fluttered open to the sound of footsteps. She was taken aback by her new surroundings and she started in her bed, disrupting Harry, who was leaning on her bed, head on his arms. He shrugged his shoulders unconsciously and settled back into his snoring. She gazed at him lovingly and put a hand to his rumpled hair. He was still here for her. She wondered if he knew. Knew about what she had found out last night. She took her hand from Harry's head and gently rested it on her stomach.

Inside her was a little baby. A baby her body didn't want to accept. This worried her to no end. Even if they could save the baby, how good a mother would she be if her body didn't want her to have it? She wanted to love her child with all her heart, but if this was somehow unnatural, was it meant to be? Was Mother Nature trying to persuade her not to have this child? Would something horrible happen if she did?

Hermione's thoughts flew to Harry after an obnoxiously loud snore from him. What would he think of it? Would he still love her if she was carrying someone else's child? Would he take care of her? And the baby was Lionel's. She thought that pretty much sealed the deal that he would never feel the same about her. She was carrying a piece of that excuse of a man around with her. She began crying at the thought of losing the man she loved so much and turned away from him.

Harry was awoken by the shift of weight on the bed. He also was surprised to find he was sleeping in a hospital room. He began to remember last night, but then he heard Hermione's sobs and turned all of his attention to her. He stood up and whispered her name, his hand on her shoulder. She stopped weeping but didn't turn over.

"Hermione," he said pleadingly. She rolled onto her back but didn't look at him. She seemed very intrigued with the stray thread on her blanket.

He kneeled next to her bed and looked at her until she finally met his gaze. His eyes were so full of worry and emotion that she began sobbing again.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry," she said as she leaned up to wrap her arms around his neck. He let her bring him down and he sat on the bed. He pulled away and looked at her again.

"What for?" he asked. He was so sincere she didn't know how to answer.

"Wh—what for? Well, for letting that, that… _thing_ give this to me. For ruining our evening. For making you sleep in a hospital chair," she said with a chuckle. But her face quickly turned grave and she looked away. "And for letting you think we would be together again. For letting you think you could love me again," she finished with a sigh and a few more tears.

"Hermione Granger. Don't you ever apologize for what that sorry bastard did. And first of all, I never stopped loving you. And I never will. Something like this would never break us apart. What I said at graduation is true. I will _always _be here for you. And I will _always_ love you. And now I'll just have more of you to love," he said with a smile as he placed his hand on her belly. He leaned towards her and kissed her gently. She was so utterly relieved she breathed a sigh onto his lips and he smiled.

Harry began to pull away but Hermione would have none of that. She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and deepened the kiss. Harry immediately complied and positioned himself a little more comfortably on the bed. But then he quickly pulled away and sat back.

"What?" she asked.

"Hermione, we can't do that. You're…with child. Plus, you're still weak and the Healers have more work to do," he said finally.

"You're right," she sighed. "But after I get home," she said slyly with a wink.

"No!" he said shocked. "Hermione, you're pregnant! None of that! Whatsoever. It could be dangerous. For you and the baby."

"Harry," she began. "It is perfectly normal for pregnant women to, er, do that."

"Well, I'm having none of it. It's just not right. And besides, wouldn't I poke the baby?" he asked embarrassedly.

She laughed and pulled him into an innocent hug. "Okay, Harry. None of that, then."

Hermione scooted over and Harry maneuvered into the bed next to her. "So, you're really okay with this?" she asked tentatively.

"Hermione, why wouldn't I be? I love you, and I will love this baby." He again patted her tummy. "More than anything," he finished solemnly as he brushed his lips on her forehead.

Hermione placed her hand on top of Harry's. "And he, or she, will be ours," she said, looking up at him. "As far as I'm concerned, _you _are the father. We will have no more talk of…him. We will raise this child, and he, or she, will only know of you as his or her dad. The only dad. Agreed?"

"Absolutely," he said with another smile and another kiss. They snuggled closer in the bed and took a little morning nap. (When in fact neither of them slept a wink. They just laid there amazed at how much they loved the other.)

A while later Hermione interrupted their respective romantic reveries. "Harry," she whispered inquisitively.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, rubbing her shoulder.

"Do you think the fact that my body doesn't accept this baby could be a sign?" Harry could hear the fear in her voice.

"A sign of what, Hermione?" He knew the answer, and he wished she wasn't thinking it.

"A sign that I shouldn't be having this child. That I'll be a horrible mother or that something terrible will happen if I do have it. What if…," but then she broke down again and turned into Harry, burying herself into his chest.

"Mione. Mione, shhh," he comforted, patting her head. "How can you say that? You would be the most amazing mother for any child. You should be having this baby, as you should have any baby. It's yours, not his. And as for the fact that something terrible might happen, well, there's nothing you can do about that, can you? Do you think if my mother had the same feelings you have, like this kid would change the world, she wouldn't have had me? And then where would we be? Living in a world run by Voldemort, that's where. Maybe something terrible will happen, but maybe something terribly wonderful could happen, too. Maybe this little person inside you will find a way to end hunger, or allow Muggles and wizards to coincide peacefully. Or maybe he'll just live a happy and normal life and grow up and fall in love and raise a family, just like we're about to do. You have nothing to worry about. At all. You will be a wonderful mother. There is no doubt in my mind." He kissed the top of her head and listened to her trying to steady her breaths in between hiccups.

"Oh, Harry. I really hope you're right." She snuggled in closer to him and finally fell asleep. But now Hermione had Harry all worked up. For the umpteenth time, horrible thoughts flew threw his head.

_Maybe I'll be a horrible father. I won't know how to hold her right. Or I'll drop her. What if something happens and she hates me? Or if she finds out I'm not her real father. I'll probably just get in the way all the time. Hermione's so organized and smart, she would be much better at it alone, without me messing everything up. _No._ What am I saying? Hermione needs me, and I'll never leave her. No, I'll be a fine parent. Everything will be okay. Just chill out. Calm down. It'll be all right. I mean, you're not even the one having the baby, now are you? _

He was rudely interrupted by a nurse barging in the room, muttering something about Harry had to get "out, out. The Healers had more to do and Hermione had an appointment." Hermione had quickly awoken and was attempting to get out of bed. Harry didn't realize just how weak she was. He jumped to her side and helped her into the wheelchair the nurse had brought in. He barely had time to give her some words of encouragement before she was wheeled into the hallway and Harry was once again left to worry endlessly.


	15. Mood Swings and Old Friends

A very round Hermione sat knitting on the sofa in her apartment. Well, she wasn't knitting so much as just clicking her needles together, very bored. She was sick of daytime TV and she was horrible at knitting. The sweater she had been trying to knit was beginning to look like something a three-legged dog would wear. She decided to get her book from the bedroom. But she had to do it quietly. Harry was working in the kitchen and he hated her doing anything for herself. Apparently Hermione was a ticking bomb and the slightest movement on her part would send her into labor right then and there. Of course, Hermione knew better and set her needles on the cushion next to her.

She leaned forward gingerly, but quickly decided that was no way to go about it. She put a hand on the sofa behind her and the other on the arm for leverage. She tried easing up at first, but fell back down every time. She decided to go for the push-and-run technique, giving herself a good hard thrust, but once again only flopping back into the sofa. She blew away strands of hair that had fallen into her face and began to think hard about different ways she could get off her arse without Harry's help. She furrowed her brow for a few seconds and an imaginary light bulb went off above her head. Her face lit up and she sat up to position herself.

Hermione scooted low on the sofa so her legs were nearly straight out in front of her and her lower back was on the edge of the cushion. She began rocking back and forth, and on the third rock, she pushed herself all the way over, now on her knees facing the couch. She smiled a triumphant smile and began to stand. But even that proved to be a struggle. Her huge belly seemed to get in the way of everything. Just as Hermione was almost standing, Harry walked into the living room, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you?! You don't need to be doing anything. I can get you whatever you need." He helped her up and she glared at him.

"Harry, I'm perfectly capable. Now bugger off," she muttered, stomping off towards the bedroom. She began to mutter something to her belly, but he didn't catch all of it, though he thought he distinctly heard the phrase, 'whether you like it or not'. He laughed and tossed the tea towel back in the kitchen, hoping it landed on something. He picked up her knitting and chuckled at her "good effort" before following her into the bedroom.

"So what was so important that you _had _to have so quickly it couldn't wait for me to be done with the dishes?" he asked good-naturedly.

"If you must know, Potter," (He knew it wasn't a good sign when she called him by his last name.) "I wanted my book. And I could do it on my own, you know. I don't need you waiting on me hand and foot. I'm not a baby," she finished with a pout.

"I know you're not," he said crossing the room and placing a hand on her stomach. "But this is. And we've got to be careful. The doctor said no strenuous activity."

"Oh, I doubt getting up off my fat ass counts as 'strenuous activity,'" she said with air-quotes and a huff.

Harry was quite used to these moods and dismissed her gruffness. "So do you want some tea?" he asked with a smile.

"No, I don't want any tea," she said condescendingly. "I wanted my book, and I've got it (by myself, mind you!)so ppllbbhh," she said with a raspberry and a menacing look. He chortled at the face that used to put so much fear into him. But he had seen it so much lately he couldn't take it seriously.

"Fine, then. I'll have some tea. You can go out for some cross-country skiing later and maybe some laps at the Y after that. See where that gets you, missy. I'll be in the pub watching football muttering 'I told you so' while you're up at St. Mungo's pushing away," he joked, walking towards the door. But when he heard a sniffle instead of a sharp retort, he stopped in his tracks and turned towards her.

"You wouldn't really leave me, would you? Make me do it alone?" Tears were beginning to fall down her face.

"Oh, Mione," he said quietly as he gathered her in his arms. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke. Of course I'll be there. Wild horses couldn't stop me. I'm so sorry. I'll never joke about something like that ever again."

"I know. I'm sorry. I over-reacted. Damn hormones," she said with a forced chuckle. "It's just that, you're the…only…my…," Hermione stuttered. She couldn't find the words.

"I know. It's okay." He shushed her and held her until they heard a pop and a familiar voice from the living room. "Uh-oh. They're early." He glanced at his watch.

"What? What are they doing here? You never told me they were coming over. Harry, I'm a mess!" she said with a stomp of her foot.

"Oh, they're just over for some tea. We haven't seen them in a while. Um, stay in here and get yourself cleaned up while I go put the kettle on," he said, moving towards the door.

"Oh, there you are mate," Ron said, turning at the sound of a door opening. Harry closed it quietly behind him. "Thought you two had gone out, or something."

"No. I don't think Hermione's quite in the mood to go out today," he said with a smirk.

"What? She's in a bad mood? Well, now she won't have any fun at the shower and she'll blame me for throwing her a horrible shower and she'll never forgive me and then every time she looks at her kid she'll think about the horrible shower I threw her and how horrible a friend I was. So then she won't talk to me ever again and I'll never see my god-niece or nephew and I'll—"

"Luna! Calm down! It'll be fine. As soon as she sees what we've done she'll brighten up," he said to the airy blonde that had become their close friend (and Ron's girlfriend) over the years. He patted her shoulder as he crossed the room and went to the kitchen. He got halfway there and motioned for them to follow.

"So," began Harry in a hushed voice as he started pulling trays full of cold cuts and h'or deurves out of the refrigerator. (He had magicked the refrigerator to hold more food, but to also hide it away whenever Hermione went into it.) "She doesn't suspect a thing. I told her you two were over for tea. What time is everyone else supposed to get there, again?"

"We told everyone to get there at 3:30. Said we'd be there about four," said Ron as he and Luna took seats at the table.

"Good. And you've got your folks picking up the Grangers at their hotel, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry. Dad's got a car from the ministry. All taken care of," he said with the 'okay' sign.

"Great," he mumbled as he licked the thumb he had accidentally stuck in a deviled egg. "And Ginny's at the Leaky Cauldron getting everything set up?"

"Yeah, she's got Mum helping, as well as Lav. Harry, calm down, everything's fine. Hermione will love it," he said reassuringly. Harry was flitting around the kitchen, trying to think of anything he'd forgotten.

"Okay, okay," he sighed. He glanced at his watch again. "Well, we've got an hour before we need to get her there, so we'll just have some tea and be very cool about it all. Don't let her on to anything, remember," he said with a pointed look at Ron. He could never keep his mouth shut about anything. Harry was amazed he'd gone this long without spilling the beans. "Oh, we've got to get these dishes to Ginny." He flicked his wand and muttered "_aparatum Leaky Cauldron_" and the plates were gone. "I'll go get her. Luna, can you set the kettle?"

"Sure," she replied, standing up and walking towards the stove.

Harry tiptoed towards their bedroom, but paused with his hand on the handle when he heard low music from inside. He pressed his ear to the door, and thought he heard singing. He inched open the door and peeked inside.

Hermione was sitting in the rocker, lovingly rubbing her huge belly and softly singing a lullaby to it. It was an Irish lullaby her grandmother had sung to her when she was little, and Hermione wanted her baby to grow up with it. No one knew, not even Harry, that whenever she was scared or nervous or upset she would hum it or sing it to herself. Unless of course she was around anyone, in which case she would just play it over and over in her head. She had sung it to herself the night before she left for her first year of Hogwarts, she had listened to it in her head during their adventuresin their first and second years, and had hummed it nearly constantly for the rest of her Hogwarts years while she was worrying about Harry.

Harry stood there, leaning against the door, watching Hermione peacefully singing to her unborn child. He knew Hermione wasn't much of a singer, but she made the song sound absolutely beautiful. The last few notes fell from her throat and she smiled a small smile before Harry's slight cough made her quickly look up.

"H-Harry," she stammered embarrassedly. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," he replied.

"Oh." She blushed. "That was just, well…I was…I thought…" Why did it seem like she couldn't finish a sentence today?

"'Mione," he said sweetly, slowly walking towards her, "I think it's terribly sweet. What song was that?"

"Oh, just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me. Nothing special. Some old Irish tune," she said nonchalantly with a wave of her hand. She didn't want to tell Harry it was so special to her. She may have loved him, but there were some things she would always keep to herself. That was one of them.

"Well, Ron and Luna are here. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she said with another smile at her belly and a nod.

Harry offered her his hand. And this time she took it. They lightly kissed before Harry led her into the living room.

"Oh, hello, Hermione!" Luna squealed when she saw them enter. "It's been so long! How can we see each other so little and live in the same city?" She jumped up to hug her large friend and pat her belly.

"Oy, 'Mione!" Ron shouted. "You're bigger than ever! Looks like Harry did a real bang up job, didn't he?" he asked jokingly with a slap on Harry's back. Harry and Hermione exchanged a guilty glance before she gave a nervous laugh and told Ron he still had the mind of a teenager.

Harry and Hermione had decided not to tell anyone, not even Ron, about who the real father was. He would go even crazier than Harry and insist on going to New York to give Lionel a piece of his mind. Plus, it would be an easy enough secret to keep. Still, they couldn't help but feel guilty for keeping this huge piece of information from their best friend.

The four chatted and laughed for awhile before Harry glanced at his watch and gave Ron an expectantlook.

"Oh, hey. I've an idea," Ron began. "Let's go to the Leaky Cauldron for a while. We haven't been there for ages. Might be fun. I could really go for some pea soup," he said with a wink. Harry and Luna voiced their approval and began to get up to get their coats.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron," Hermione said cautiously. "I'm not sure if I feel much for going out tonight."

"Oh, Mione, come on. It won't kill you. You haven't been out forever. Plus, we might bump into some old friends and you can rub it in their faces how you snagged The-Boy-Who-Lived ," persuaded Luna.

"Well…"she drawled undecidedly.

"Oh, come on, Mione. I can show off the 'bang up job I've done', as Ron so eloquently put it," said Harry.

"Oh, okay," she agreed with a smile. Once again she attempted to get up, but to no avail. Harry was busy gathering their coats, so Ron came to the rescue.

"There we are, Hermione," he said, placing her on her feet. Harry helped her into her coat and guided her towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"To the car," Harry said, matter-of-factly. "Aren't you coming?" he asked when Ron and Luna just stood there, very confused.

"But…can't we apparate?" Luna asked.

"Some of us can't anymore, Ms. Lovegood," Hermione replied coolly. Ron and Luna both turned red under Hermione's hot stare and muttered apologies as they followed Harry and Hermione out to the car.


End file.
